


Hatchlings

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: Baby Fic, F/M, but not in the way you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: With both his parents dead and a mystery surrounding him, a baby must be protected by Jack and Gibbs until answers are found. Slibbs
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Comments: 32
Kudos: 142





	Hatchlings

"I didn't do it! I swear, I didn't do it."

After 20 minutes of soft assurances and non-threatening movements towards the house, Jack had finally gotten into the doorway, but she knew her job was only half done. There was still a dead Marine inside, a 7 month old baby and the father who was tenuously holding on to his sanity.

"And I want to help you prove it," she promised, holding up her hands. "You, me, and that beautiful baby can go somewhere and talk this out. How does that sound?"

The man squeezed his eyes shut. "The last thing she said to me was 'Protect the baby'."

"And we'll do that. You have my word. But we can't do that here."

…..

Outside, a pair of LEOS hovered around their patrol car, guns drawn, eyes on the house. Gibbs stood closer, having instinctively moved as she had moved, refusing to let her out of his sight until she had given him a nod to let her go inside, a decision that he was now regretting.

"What's she doing in there?"

Gibbs sent a glare to the younger of the two cops, even if he was wondering the same thing. His gut was doing a number on his brain, neither liking the feeling that hovered around the situation. He was going to give her another 2 minutes before making a move. Whatever that might be.

…..

"We, we were getting calls. Late at night. Telling us if Tracy knew what was good for her, she'd forget everything."

As much as Jack didn't want to have the conversation there, she knew it was best to let the man talk if he was willing to volunteer information. 

"Forget what?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I don't know. I swear."

"When did the threats start?"

"About, about a month ago. Maybe less. Phone calls, slashed tires, someone following us. We got pictures of our baby in the mail. Pictures of him with the nanny in the park."

Jack nodded. "They were telling you they could get close." When he nodded in return, she said, "Matt, you have to come in, okay? We can figure this out. We can protect you. You and your baby. I promise."

He seemed to consider the offer, glancing at the baby who was oblivious to the drama around him, sleeping soundly in the carrier on the couch.

"If something happens to me, promise you'll take care of Evan."

"I promise," she said again. "You have my word."

A shot rang out.

…..

Gibbs recognized the sound immediately and dropped to a crouched position while his eyes tried to scan the treeline of the secluded area. High-powered, single bolt rifle. He'd shot enough of them to know. Just as he was about to warn the uniforms, the air cracked with another shot and the older cop was dead on impact. Grinding his teeth, he gauged the distance between him and the house -the immeasurable space between him and Jack- and shouted her name.

…..

The glass breaking and Matthew Grant hitting the floor, his blood pooling across the hardwood floor seemed to happen at the same time, and Jack blinked once to bring time back to the present. Carefully putting the baby on the floor and into a safe corner, she went to the door, avoiding the windows and pondered her next move. The only one that felt safe was to call out his name when she heard hers. 

"I'm okay," she said into the space she had left open when Matthew had allowed her in. "What's going on?"

"One down, shooter in the hills." he replied, even as he continued to search the area with his eyes. 

"Matthew Grant is dead."

"Bring the baby out," the cop shouted. "We'll cover you."

His words, and the fact there was no need for cover after the second shot tweaked Gibbs' gut. Standing up but in line with the officer who was 10 feet away, Gibbs told Jack, "Stay there."

The cop -'Fielding', based on his tag- turned to Gibbs. "What are you doing? We gotta get the baby out of there before this nutjob shoots again."

"Why hasn't he, I wonder?

"What?"

“Gibbs,” Jack asked with a vein of suspicion through her voice. 

“Stay there, Jack.” he repeated. To Fielding, he asked, “What’s so important about the baby?”

“Nothing,” came the reply, and a furrowed brow followed. “I just want to get everyone safe.”

“That why your partner shot your other partner?”

Fielding shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Almost on cue, another bullet pierced the air, this time blowing out the tire on the SUV. 

“Funny how he missed you and you’re wide open,” Gibbs said.

The accusation made the cop bristle. “Shut up.”

“Did you know your partner was gonna kill Matthew Grant?”

“Shut up!” Fielding lifted his gun, pointing it at Gibbs. “Just hand over the baby and no one gets hurt.”

“Might wanna save that, considerin’ two people are dead. Three if you count Tracy Grant.”

Giving up the pretense, Fielding threatened, “There’s going to be 4 if you don’t hand the baby over, right now.”

Jack watched intently from the house, and it was Fielding’s threat that made her step into the doorway, gun drawn. “Drop it!”

Startled, he swung and fired. No stranger to facing gunfire, Jack pulled back into safety, flinching when the bullet splintered the door frame. She wasn’t surprised when she heard the reply of a familiar 1911, but she jumped at the long range shot that hit something metal.

“Cars’ are out of commission,” Gibbs shouted, answering her unspoken question. “Cover me.”

Not knowing where the shots were coming from but having a general idea, Jack crouched around the door and fired into the wooded hill to the right of the house while Gibbs bolted for the door. Once inside, he slammed it shut and leaned against it. Jack went over to the carrier where the baby had begun to fuss. Rocking him gently, she turned to Gibbs, only to discover a dark patch seeping through his coat, high on his left shoulder. 

He must’ve seen her expression because he waved it off. “Grazed, not through.” As his eyes looked around the room, they fell on Matthew Grant.

“What the hell’s going on, Gibbs?” she asked.

“Shooter in the trees, dirty cop and no way to get out.”

Jack cocked her ear up. “He’s stopped shooting. Is he waiting for us to make a move or is he coming down to finish the job?”

They both knew either were plausible, though Gibbs was leaning towards the latter. “The distance’ll take him at least 5 minutes to get down here, but he’s shot out the tires. He knows we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

“Aren’t we?” she asked, darting over to Grant and pulling his body away from the open window. She patted his pockets and triumphantly held up a set of keys. “I bet there’s a door to the garage from this McMansion.”

“Before we do that, grab everything we need for the kid. Check the fridge for formula.” 

He spoke while he searched for the baby’s room, and Jack darted into the kitchen. It took them all of two minutes to reconvene in the living room. He had found the diaper bag in the baby’s room, complete with clothes, powder and a blanket. He had found an extra bag as well, and tossed it to Jack who had scooped up 4 bottles from the fridge and some jars. 

“Take that, grab whatever else you think we’ll need.”

When she verbally went down a list and he answered in the affirmative, she said, “That’s it, then.”

Nodding, he took his bag and slung hers over his shoulder, wincing at the reminder of the pain that throbbed all down his arm. “Grab the kid and figure out how to get outta here.”

“I saw a side door through the kitchen. I’m guessing it goes to the garage.” Kneeling at the basket, she softly cooed, and the baby responded with an attentive sound in return. “Let’s go, little guy,” she said, picking up the basket and giving Gibbs a nod. “Let’s go, big guy.”

The lightness was the adrenaline, he knew, but he grinned anyway. Cautious but quick, they made their way to the door and it was just as she said; when the handle turned, it led them to the garage. She pushed the alarm button on the key fob before tossing them over the SUV. He caught them in his right hand and slid into the driver’s seat. Jack opened the back door and set the carrier facing away from the front and snapped it into place.

“I didn’t know it could do that,” he admitted as he watched her.

“These freakin’ things transform into space ships these days.” She made sure the seat was set in tightly and tapped the baby’s nose with the toy that was wedged under his arm. “Start the car,” she told Gibbs, closing the door and opening hers. In tandem, he turned the ignition while she pressed the garage door opener over his head, and they both took a breath. She pulled her gun from behind her back and held it at the ready. “Okay.”

When the door opened just enough to clear the vehicle, Gibbs put his foot to the floor and launched the SUV into the open. They both waited for the shot that never came, and it wasn’t until they had cleared the property, jaws clenched and hearts racing, that they bothered to look back. The house became a dot, then a speck, until it disappeared entirely. 

“Where do you think he went?” Jack asked, eyes never stopping.

Deftly maneuvering the vehicle off the dirt road and onto the highway, he glanced in the rearview mirror and shook his head. “Right now, all that matters is where _we’re_ going.”

…..

They had pulled over to a gas station along the way to catch their breaths and check their surroundings. Jack checked on the baby who was fast asleep. 

“My kinda kid,” Gibbs said as he flipped open his phone. 

A comforting voice answered. “Yeah, Boss?”

“McGee, things went south at the Grants. Three dead plus Corporal Grant.”

“Boss?” The question was threaded with confusion and wonder.

“Shooter in the hills,” Gibbs went on. “Long range. Deputy Fielding was working with the shooter. I need you to get up there and put it together.”

Despite the flood of information, Tim absorbed it all. “We’re on it. You and Agent Sloane okay?”

“Yep. Fielding made some comment about the baby. I need you to find out what’s so important about the kid.”

“You’re not coming in.”

“No. If the kid’s the key to somethin’, we’re gonna need to lay low until we figure out what that is.”

“Where are you going?”

Aware of the risk of saying anything over the phone, Gibbs offered a cryptic yet simple reply, “Let’s just say I hope Fornell doesn’t find me.”

It didn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place. “Got it. Check in when you’re settled.”

Gibbs snapped the phone shut, then went inside to pay for the gas. The station had a small selection of basics he added to the bill, and taking the supplies, he stepped out again and stopped in his tracks. Jack was slowly walking around the SUV, baby in her arms, lightly bouncing and talking the entire time. Gibbs swallowed down the familiarity that still hit him in the chest 30 years later. He had seen a similar image hundreds of times with a different woman and a different baby, but the feelings were still there. Perhaps feeling his eyes on her, she lifted her head and smiled, and he wondered if she knew how natural she looked. Shaking away the nostalgia and emotion, he put the extras in the back and raised an eyebrow.

“Who knows how long he’s been in that basket?” she shrugged, seeing the question in his eyes. “He woke up and I figured he could stretch out his legs.” He snorted at the obvious exaggeration. “We might need to do a little, you know, soon." She circled her finger over the diaper. “How long before we get to where we’re going?”

“Twenty, twenty-five minutes,” he replied. The fact she simply nodded and buckled the baby back in his seat said everything about the trust she put in him, just as she had agreed without question when he suggested they lay low until the team could track down the shooter. 

“He should be okay,” Jack said, tilting her head to the back seat. She clicked in her seat belt and offered an encouraging smile. “We’re good.”

He nodded and started the engine.

…..

“Wow,” she whispered as they came up the rocky road to the cabin. “I’ve heard about this place. Wasn’t sure it was real.”

He side-eyed her feigned awe. “Let’s get everything inside first. I’ll pull the truck around the side later.”

He managed all their gear while she brought in the carrier. If he had any concerns about what she’d think of the place, that was dispelled by the bright smile and pleased hum. 

“I love it.”

“Gotta use the outhouse,” he said, a near apology he wasn’t expecting to give. “No running water.”

“Okay,” she replied, like she roughed it every day. Seeing his expression, she said, “I’m not a princess, Gibbs. It’s safe, it’s _totally_ you, and it’s perfect.” 

Inexplicably pleased by her assessment, he dipped his head ever so slightly and grinned before thumbing backwards towards the door. “Let me bring the truck around and get some more water.”

“Of course you’ve got a lake nearby,” she said.

He pretended to scowl, but grabbed a few empty jugs near the door and headed out, leaving the door open.

She took another look around the cabin, at its small table and dresser, the handmade bed and the rocking chair tucked in near the fireplace. Even without a flame, the place warmed her.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” she asked the wide-eyed infant in the carrier. “Let’s get you out of that and _definitely_ out of that diaper, hey?” Two little fists punched out in agreement. She rummaged through the diaper bag and took out everything she needed before lifting the baby up and gently resting him on the bed. Kneeling, she unsnapped the onesie’s buttons and went about changing the diaper. “You know,” she said, “I never got to do this with mine, so don’t judge me too harshly, okay?” The baby gurgled its reply. “Thank you. You’re very understanding.” She emptied one of the bags from the gas station and used it for garbage. The onesie was snapped into place and she rolled back on her heels to examine her work. “I think I did pretty good. What do you think, Evan?” The sound of his name made his legs kick and she playfully grabbed his foot. “Why thank you. You’re too kind.”

“Looks like you made a friend.”

She smiled at Gibbs’ reappearance, 4 water jugs in hand. “He supervised while I changed his diaper. I think he was pretty pleased by my work.” As if on cue, the baby’s face began to wrinkle and a plaintive sound escaped. “Uh-oh. Looks like I spoke too soon.”

Putting down the jugs on the table, Gibbs went over to the bed and recognized the problem. “He’s probably teething.” He went to put a finger in the baby’s mouth, only to have Jack slap his hand away.

“Eww. Go wash your hands.”

“How’s the kid gonna develop an immune system?” he asked, even as he went back to the table where he poured half a jug into a basin. A small towel was on a nearby peg and he dried his hands before returning to the bed. With exaggerated concern, he held them out for her inspection. 

“That’s better.”

His eye roll was his reply, and he picked up his action where he had left off, gently pushing his finger tip past the baby’s lips and running it along the gums. “You got one coming in the bottom there, buddy.”

“‘Evan’,” she told him. “His dad said his name was ‘Evan’.”

Blue eyes of a man who had seen it all met the blue eyes of a child who already had gone through too much, losing both parents before his first birthday. “Hey, Evan,” Gibbs whispered, unable to resist the innocence that looked up at him. The name brought out a chubby smile. “Think I saw somethin’ to help with that,” he said, digging into the diaper bag. He waggled the teething ring at the baby and watched as tiny fingers curled around it and tugged it away. “Hell of a grip, kid.” He repositioned Evan closer to the middle of the bed, then gestured Jack over to the table.

“So what’s the next move?” she asked, her attention divided between the baby on the bed and Gibbs starting the fire. 

“I hate to do this,” he said, lifting a log, alluding to the figurative arrow it would put over the cabin, “but the nights get cold.”

The time reference half answered her question. “We need to wait for Tim and the team to track down the shooter.”

“Yep. Find out the connection between him and Fielding and that’ll be half the problem.”

She nodded. “The other will be trying to figure out why the baby was so important.” 

He agreed again and she walked over to the carrier. Carefully, she began pulling back the cushions, squeezing the padding and examining the frame. He watched her come up short, but admired the idea. He wasn’t the only one watching. An audience of one from the bed saw the movements and began whimpering.

“I’ll put water on,” he told her, and she went back to the bed.

“What is it, sweetheart?” she asked, retrieving the ring he had tossed to the side. Giving it back to him did nothing to stop the whine from growing to a sob. “Are you hungry? The big guy’s taking care of that, okay?” Still, the crying didn’t abate. Replaying the last 2 minutes, her eyebrows rose. “Your toy? Did you see me over there? Hold on.” In 4 steps, she was able to get the toy from the carrier and bring it back. Sure enough, the second Evan could grip on to the stuffed turtle, he stopped fussing. She relaxed and sat next to him.

“They’re gonna do that,” Gibbs said, bringing the warmed formula. 

She watched him test it against his wrist and envied him for how natural he made it look. “Yeah, I remember from Christmas. It’s still-” Her voice faltered and she hid her uncertainty by playing tug with the toy, much to Evan’s pleasure.

“It’s somethin’ you’re not used to,” Gibbs finished for her. “Don’t worry, Sloane. Happens to everyone.” He handed her the bottle and watched as she leaned on one elbow to offer it to a very eager baby. She may have felt uncertain, but she adapted well, and he wondered if she was struggling with the same kind of thoughts that were coming back to him. “Kelly had the damn ugliest thing,” he said, faltering but pushing forward. “Lizard with these huge eyes she’d chew on. I made the mistake of washin’ it one day and the eyes fell off. Shannon was out shoppin’ and I was lookin’ after Kelly.” He chuckled at the memory.

Jack, surprised yet thankful for the moment, smiled. “I take it things didn’t go well.”

“No. No, it did not. I ran to the basement and glued them back on. Did the trick until Shannon came home and got on me for usin’ glue.”

“Because Kelly would put the toy in her mouth.”

“Told her I was desperate,” he protested, though it did little to fade the grin on Jack’s face, and he couldn’t help smiling right back. “Don’t forget to burp him before he falls asleep,” he said, looking at the baby whose eyes were drooping. He handed her a small blanket from the bag. “Need to touch base with McGee.”

…..

“We traced all of Brett Fielding’s relatives and friends and came up with a big hit,” Tim said after Gibbs’ terse “McGee” on the other end of the phone. “David Shockley’s his cousin. Staff Sergeant David Shockley.”

The rank was one step below Gunnery Sergeant, and they had all made the same connection. “Explains the long range shooting,” Gibbs said. “What’s the connection to Corporal Grant?”

“We’re starting to piece that together, Boss. Looks like Tracy Grant was doing some digging on a ring of Marines skimming money off the drug plan. They were double-dipping on the claims and cashing in.”

“Lemme guess,” Gibbs said, “Staff Sergeant Shockley’s part of that ring.”

“You got it. Unfortunately, we can’t link him directly right now. We didn’t find anything at the scene, so I’ve got Bishop tracking his records to see how far down the rabbit hole goes. And why Fielding was involved.”

“Where’s Shockley now?”

Tim hesitated, knowing Gibbs wasn’t going to like the answer. “Not sure, Boss.”

Gibbs glanced over at Jack who was swaying back and forth across the cabin’s width, patting the baby’s back. “Keep on it. Get back to me when you do.” He clicked the phone shut.

“I should turn mine off,” she said. “Save the battery. Just in case.”

“Good thinkin’.” He watched her put the baby down with gentleness and care, and he went over to the dresser. Clearing out the bottom drawer, he put it on top of the dresser, then tugged the cushion out of the carrier to line the drawer, creating a makeshift crib. She came over to examine his handiwork.

“Good idea.”

“I’ll sleep in the chair tonight,” he told her, recognizing his own bed’s smallness.

She slapped his shoulder. “Like hell you will.” Seeing his wince at the contact reminded her of his other shoulder. “Where’s your First Aid kit?”

“In the corner.”

She pulled him over to the table and pushed him into a chair. He arched his eyebrow but her stern, silent look made him shrug off his suit jacket without another word. “The polo, too. Off.” She returned with the kit and helped him tug the hem out of his pants. Carefully, she made him pull his right arm out first, then lifted the shirt over his head until she could slip it off his left arm. The blood was dark and caked through his white T-shirt. “Does it hurt?”

He shook his head. “Grazed.” He saw her bring the medical scissors closer, and before he could put two and two together, she had started to cut his sleeve. "Hey!"

"Please. Like you don't have 20 of these _exact_ same shirts." The scissors went all the way around without another word. "And you're not sleeping in a bloody shirt."

"I've got clothes here."

"Oh. Well you should've said something before I cut it."

He narrowed his eyes but she was already focusing on the wound, and offered a sympathetic wince. He tilted his head up to watch her as she began to wash around what was already scabbing, cleaning and tending with her touch and her eyes, and he subconsciously leaned in. Amber flecked in her brown eyes and he was transfixed by the concentration line that formed between her brows and by their sudden nearness. His left leg was caught between hers and every little movement made him want to jump out of his skin. He flexed his hands to stop himself from touching her. 

Mistaking it for pain, she asked, "Am I hurting you?"

"Just stings."

The excuse worked and she went back to his shoulder. "You need butterfly stitches in your kit," she informed him. "Hold here." She lifted his right hand and pressed his fingers against the gauze she had laid against the wound. The white tape was measured then torn off the roll, and between the two of them, she was able to make sure everything stayed in place. "There." She pulled back slightly to inspect her work.

Seeing her clearly pondering something, he asked, “What?”

She shrugged. “Just debating whether or not I should cut the other sleeve to balance you out.”

“Or you could grab me a new shirt.”

She huffed but relented, making the short trip to the dresser, where she chuckled at the 5 identical white T-shirts in the drawer. When she turned, she objected to him taking the other one off. 

“Hey,” she said, “let me do that.” As she had done with the polo, the T-shirt first came off his right arm, then over his head, then down his left, carefully avoiding the bandage. With him bare from the waist up, it was the first time she was able to see the damage left behind from years of danger and risk. Unable to stop herself, she let her fingertips trace over one of the scars. “We’ve been through some wars, huh? Literally and figuratively.”

Half of his brain gave the signal to nod, the other half neatly folded away the moment of her first touch. There had been embraces and kisses, hand holds and advances into personal space, but she had never touched him. Not like this. As if recognizing it, too, she cleared her throat and dragged her attention back to the shirt, concentrating on rolling it up to the collar to let his arms through first, then his head. The last step brought her inside his knees and his good hand automatically came up to her waist. Time slowed and they let it dictate the leisurely way his hand moved up to her hair, the easy manner in which she lowered her mouth to his. The sigh between them was soft, careful not to break the aura that surrounded them. Her fingers tugged at his short hair, angling his head in a way that allowed her to deepen the kiss. He wasn't surprised that she took control; he was only surprised at how much he enjoyed it.

"How long before the rugrat wakes up?" she whispered against his lips. When he didn't immediately respond, she pulled back and caught his smirk. "I was thinking we might want to put a bookmark here and have dinner before he wakes up."

Only half-feigning his disappointment, he glanced over to the bed. "Half an hour?"

She turned his face back with her fingers, taking the opportunity to brush her thumb across his lower lip, to search his sky blue eyes. Before the moment became too much, she bent for a quick kiss then said, "What’s on the menu, Cowboy?”

…..

He looked over his plate of beans. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” His spoon didn’t move and she shrugged. “Thought for sure I’d get some fish out of the deal.” She lifted her coffee cup. “And some sugar.”

Her nose wrinkle made him grin. “Next time.” 

The promise of a future visit settled her soul, and she dipped her bread into her plate. She glanced over to the baby and caught Gibbs looking at her when she looked back.

"What?" She saw his pause. "Just ask," she said, not unkindly.

"Never thought about having another one?" He injected a casualness to the question to sand the rough spots.

She pressed her lips together and turned her attention to the window. "No, I guess not. Maybe in a general sense that most women think of having a family, but after Afghanistan-" She didn't need to go into detail. "By then, I was in my 30s and in no shape to plan much of anything. And now?" She shrugged. "Biologically, _could_ I have kids? Sure. But realistically? I think that ship's passed. And you know something?" She looked into attentive eyes. "I think I'm okay with that." Her smile was warm and genuine. "How about you? Three ex-wives but no little Gibbs running around."

He snorted into his mug. "Diane didn’t want them then, Rebecca didn’t want them at all, and by the time Stephanie came into the picture-” The coffee went down before continuing, “I guess even I knew I was tryin’ to replicate something that was never gonna work.”

“Third time wasn’t the charm?”

Her light humour softened the question. 

“No. Guess not.”

“And now?”

He grinned. “I can barely keep up with McGee’s twins. ‘Uncle Gibbsy, put me on your shoulders. Gibbsy, push me higher!’” 

She laughed at his mimicking. “‘Gibbsy’, huh?” He laughed along with her. A noise from the bed caught his attention but before he could say anything, she collected their plates and said, “I’ll clean up; you’re on diaper duty.”

He arched an eyebrow but stood and walked to the bed while she walked to the basin. Pouring the water served as a cover for her to watch him soften the closer he got to the bed. His knees and his lungs groaned as he knelt on the floor, tapping the baby’s nose with the diaper. The gurgled response made her smile and seeing Gibbs’ hard exterior melt away was a gift to witness; she wasn’t sure how many people ever had the opportunity. His eyes widened with every button he unsnapped, and Evan squealed in delight every time. The diaper was efficiently dealt with, and a new one slipped under lifted legs that tried to kick out of his big hand. A liberal amount of powder puffed out of the bottle, eliciting another squeal. The task was completed when he pulled the tabs over and stuck them near the front. The onesie snapped back together and the legs, finally free, cycled and kicked and Evan’s fists did the same.

“Maybe Nick can train you to be a UFC fighter,” Gibbs said. “Whattya think?” He held out his finger and Evan gripped it tight. 

“I think you two could charm a hell of a lot of women with that act,” Jack said from the counter.

“You hear that? She thinks it’s an act.” Evan babbled his reply. “Can’t help it if we’re naturally charming, can we?” Standing with a louder groan than the one he made going down, Gibbs got to his feet and looked down at the bed. “Gonna have to figure out how to bathe you later, but right now, let’s get you up.” His hands slid under the baby and brought him to his shoulder. Evan lifted his head to look around. Excited by the new view, he punched Gibbs in the face. 

“Yep,” Jack said. “A UFC fighter.”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, which only made Jack laugh and Evan stare. “He’ll wanna eat soon, but for now, maybe we can get Jack to put a blanket on the floor. Think I saw some more toys in the bag.”

Jack dried her hand on the towel and took the blanket that draped over the back of the rocking chair. Laying it out near the table and chairs, she then brought over the diaper bag and rummaged through until she found a plush car and some plastic rings. 

“Don’t forget the turtle,” Gibbs reminded her.

“‘Don’t forget the turtle’, he tells me,” she cooed at the inquisitive baby nestled against Gibbs’ shoulder. She stroked over his soft head with one hand and nuzzled his face with the toy with the other. “As if I would forget the turtle.”

“Okay, let’s see how fast ya move.”

“Should we put him on his stomach?” Jack asked as Gibbs put him down on his back.

“We’ll see how he does first.” He sat in the nearby chair and they both watched him play with the turtle. 

After a few minutes, Jack got them more coffee and sat in the other chair. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” she said when he still hadn’t turned over. “All males get performance anxiety at some point in their lives.”

Gibbs slowly turned his head to her and watched as she tried to hide her laughter behind her mug. “Speak for yourself, ‘kiddo’,” he told Evan, who was blissfully unaware of the adults banter. And, just on cue, he decided to roll over.

“Hey!” she celebrated with a raised cup.

"Now the trouble starts."

Sure enough, intrigued by the new position and all it offered, it only took Evan a minute to decide what to do with it. With one pudgy forearm in front of the other, he started across the blanket.

"That's an Army crawl if I've ever seen one," she praised. 

"Good thing he'll grow out of it soon."

Jack's mouth dropped open at his dry delivery. "You're not even a little bit funny," she told him, but couldn't help the smirk when she saw his.

…..

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re giving you a bath, huh?” 

Dinner had been a tame affair until Jack had made the mistake of laughing when Evan sputtered the baby food between his lips, making the rest of the meal an adventure in keeping the food in his mouth. Gibbs had only shaken his head from the rocking chair while he waited for a pot of water to heat over the fire. 

“Half’s for coffee, half’s for the bath, though considerin’ the mess, I might’ve underestimated how much we’re gonna need.” He poured a measured amount into the basin that was already partially full with cold water. He used his elbow as a temperature check and hummed his approval. 

“Let’s get you undressed, messy monster.” She took him over to the bed where she proceeded to peel off the onesie and make short work of the diaper. Carrying him back to the basin, she said, “Do _not_ pee on me.” Evan’s giggle was somewhere between a promise and a threat. “I am not falling for that charm, young man.” She ignored Gibbs’ chuckle and began to lower the baby into the water, the little feet kicking on contact, but quickly adjusting to the change. “Look at you, sitting up all by yourself.” She held onto his hands, but his strength did the rest of the work. Gibbs came to stand by her side and rested his hand on the table, but near Evan’s head. 

“He’s feisty.” 

Suspecting Gibbs was talking about him, Evan splashed and squealed, sending water everywhere, but mostly at Gibbs. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Jack said, leaning in conspiratorially. “He’s got 4 more shirts that look exactly like that one.”

“So it’s like that, huh?” 

Gibbs reached for a clean cup and proceeded to pour a small amount over Evan. There was a sudden intake of breath and some sputtering, but when his eyes opened, they were bright and playful, encouraging Gibbs to do it again. He did it twice more, rinsing away the day from the soft pink skin. Jack couldn’t help but lean into Gibbs’ arm. The easy domesticity had caught her off-guard from the moment they had stepped into the cabin and watching him now made her wonder how different life might have been had they met 20 years ago. He looked down and she looked up with a smile that had no regret. She knew that life couldn’t be rewound or re-lived, that it could only move forward. Somewhere along the line, he seemed to learn that, too.

“Come on, you two,” she said, “let’s go before you flood the place.”

…..

“He’s so easy-going.” Her voice was a whisper over the baby who had fallen asleep after his last bottle and burp. 

Gibbs grunted. “Remind me you said that at 3 in the mornin’.” He walked away from the makeshift crib and flicked out his phone. “Whattya got, McGee?”

The question didn’t have quite the same bite to it when it was asked in a whisper, and Tim frowned on the other end. “Boss?”

There were a dozen questions wrapped up in the single word. Gibbs decided to answer the simple one. “Baby’s sleepin’.”

That was something Tim could understand. “Gotcha.” He used the segue to cushion the bad news. “And that’s about all we got. No sign of Shockley, but we got his picture out to all the locals. You can imagine they’re pretty eager to find this guy. And Bishop’s been working on getting a trace on his phone. He’s got some pretty high tech stuff for an E-6.”

“Whatever he’s involved in’s gotta go higher up on the chain.”

“That’s what we’re thinking.”

“Explains his impatience at the scene,” Gibbs mused. “Somethin’ Tracy Grant found got him and a bunch of other people nervous.”

“Still trying to dig up some concrete evidence on that. We’re hoping we can find a connection to someone lower in the chain who we can lean on to get more information.”

“Good thinking.”

“How are you guys holding up?”

Gibbs looked over to Jack who was still standing near the baby, softly brushing her hand across his forehead. “We’re good. But we can’t stay here forever.” 

McGee either didn’t catch the unusual wistfulness in Gibbs’ voice or chose not to comment. Instead, he said, “We’ll let you know the second we find out anything.” 

“Yep.” He snapped the phone shut and the sound made Jack turn.

“Everything okay?”

Tossing the phone on the table, he shrugged. “Still lookin’ for the shooter.”

She laid a kiss on Evan’s head, then came to stand by Gibbs. “That all?”

He sighed. “Just don’t like sittin’, not knowin’.”

She understood his frustration; inertia was just as much her annoyance as it was his. Stroking her hand down his arm, she said, “Tomorrow’s another day. We’ll deal with it then.” She waited for his begrudging hum before adding, “In the meantime, you got any toilet paper in that outhouse?”

His eyes went to the cupboard near the door. “Bring it back when you’re done.”

“Ooh,” she murmured, “the _special_ toilet paper.” 

Before she got too far, he said, “Bring your gun.”

Though she reached for it on the high shelf, she asked, “You really think the shooter’s that close?”

“No. But the bears are.”

Her eyes widened as she tried to decide whether or not he was joking. His legendary poker face gave away nothing.

…..

Five minutes later, she returned with the toilet paper and an unfired weapon. 

“I appreciate this,” she said, holding up the roll before putting back in the cupboard. “That toilet paper you leave for guests looks like sandpaper. And remind me to bring some new magazines next time.” 

Like his comment about the fish, her intimation about a future time together at the cabin warmed him in the same way. From his chair, he watched her put the gun up and walk to the basin to wash her hands, and knew she made her discovery by her hum of approval.

“Did you pick this up at the gas station?” she asked, holding up the packaged toothbrush.

“No, Tobias left it the last time he was here.”

“Then remind me to thank him the next time I see him.”

“I was the one who remembered it was here.”

The near pout in his voice made her laugh, and it brought her hand up to his cheek. “You’ll always be my number one cowboy.”

“Better be your only cowboy.”

“Oh! Listen to you and all your sexy jealousy.” As she had done earlier, she tugged at his hair and promptly covered his mouth, catching his mild surprise in hers. Her lips lingered over her new favourite thing, her eyes soaked up everything about its owner. “Got any other surprises for me?” She felt the smirk tickle her mouth.

Knowing a trip down that road would be the start of something he’d rather begin in the comfort of a larger bed without the company of a little one in the room, Gibbs decided to go for the tame reply. “Got out some clothes for you to sleep in.”

Though she recognized the same need to delay what was clearly becoming wonderfully inevitable, she couldn’t help but match his smirk and say, “That’s a shame. I usually don’t sleep in clothes.”

“Jesus, Sloane.”

She dropped a chaste kiss on his chin. “I probably shouldn’t have another coffee, but I can’t resist a good fire.”

“And here I was thinkin’ it was gettin’ warm in here.”

…..

“Not a word.”

He shook his head at the image of her standing in front of him in a T-shirt that was at least 2 sizes too big, and pajama bottoms she swam in, despite rolling up the cuffs 5 times. He grinned around his toothbrush. “Ya look great.” He wasn’t entirely lying; there was something about a woman in his clothes that lit a spark in him he couldn’t explain. 

She must have seen the look in his eye because she raised an eyebrow. “I’m taking notes, Cowboy.”

“You do that,” he told her before finishing up. He walked up beside her and needlessly adjusted the baby’s blanket while she tucked the stuffed turtle in beside him. Their own bed awaited them, and she appeared to be measuring it with her eyes. 

“It’s definitely small.” She heard the words as they hit his ears, too. Saying “Stop,” did nothing to prevent twitch in his lips and the feigned offense in his eyebrows. “The bed. I meant the bed.”

“I dunno,” he replied, continuing the charade. “You sure?”

She glanced down at his groin then back up to his face. “Oh, sweetie, I’m definitely sure.”

Her laughter, so open and infectious, made the burning in the tips of his ears not so hot. “Get in the bed, Sloane.”

“Such a romantic.” With a genuine concern, she asked, “Will you have a hard time sleeping on that arm?” 

“Only if you sleep closest to the door, and that’s not happenin’.”

His protectiveness was a cool breeze against her skin that was suddenly warm at the thought of them sharing the bed suddenly turning into a reality. Then a second reality hit.

“You’re going to make me sleep against the wall??”

“My bed, my rules.” The simple words were laced with seductive potential.

If her skin was warm before, it was suddenly ablaze, and he damn well knew it if he smirk was anything to go by.

“Bastard,” she accused, even as she gripped his chin and pulled him in for a hard kiss. 

At last able to use his height to his advantage, he pulled her into his body with one hand and framed her face with the other, matching her want with his need. It had been years since he’d had a woman in his arms, let alone the one who had burrowed a secret place in his heart, the one who became the companion in his basement, the imaginary silhouette in his bed. Under his mouth now, under his hands, very nearly under his body, the wait was nearly over, and he couldn’t stop his fingers from doing a light reconnaissance of things to come. When they slipped under the waistband of her pants, he felt her smile against his cheek as his mouth sought a trail to her throat.

“Keep doing that and these pants will fall off. I mean that in a literal sense.”

The reminder of the oversized clothing made him chuckle into the crook of her neck. “Get in bed.” 

She waggled her eyebrows but did as she was told, watching him from her elbows as he tossed another log on the fire. He slipped under the blanket she held back then tossed over his hips when he laid down. It was the closest they’d ever been in such intimate quarters, but the awkwardness they might have expected never came. Instead, she moulded into him, one arm curled between them, the other at his waist where her fingers teased under the hem of his shirt. It was only the second time her touch and his skin had met, and they both enjoyed the moment with the same low hum. With their eyes locked, his fingers mirrored hers, finding the space under cotton to chart his very first trail up her back. She stiffened ever so slightly, her eyelids flickering shut.

“Hey.” The gentle whisper coaxed her eyes open. “I know, Jack. I _know_.” He wasn’t just talking about the scars, but of the horrors that came with them. His experiences might not have been the same, but the after effects were all too familiar. 

She nodded, bringing her hand up to lay her palm against his cheek. “I know you do.” Her kiss was as light as his touch, her hand as warm as his mouth. She hooked her leg over his hip and nestled into his chest. “That’s an awfully big rifle you’ve got there, Gunny.”

“You’re gettin’ up for the 3 o’clock feeding, Sloane.”

…..

Except she didn’t, partly because he didn’t have the heart to wake her, partly because in the warm room lit only by the fire, the sound of a baby whimpering for attention triggered an ache in his chest of years long past. He had done it so many times with Kelly because Shannon was the only woman he had known who could sleep through a bomb. He glanced over to the woman spread out in the bed. Now he knew two. So alike, yet in many ways, so incredibly different. It had taken almost a 30 year gap between the women for him to realize that was okay. Evan’s distress brought his attention back to the crib. 

Patting the diaper, he whispered, “We got some work to do, kid.” 

In military precision, both man and baby finished the task in record time, and Gibbs scooped him up in his left arm. He walked them over to the counter where he prepared a bottle and lightly scolded Evan for banging at the bandage that had caught his attention.

“Ow.” The response did nothing to stop the tiny fingers from trying to pick at the tape or bend his head to try and put it in his mouth. “Stand down, soldier. Bottle’s almost ready.” The more he talked, the more Evan took interest in him, eyes wide in the low light. “Never too early to start with the Marine discipline.” The idea was met with a squeal that Gibbs tried to stifle with a glare that went nowhere. “You’re gonna wake up Jack,” he warned, “and if I don’t know it yet, I’m bettin’ that’s not a road you wanna go down.” The baby craned around Gibbs’ shoulder towards the bed, as if he had understood the friendly warning. Using the distraction, Gibbs checked the bottle, tossed a thin blanket over his shoulder and sat in the rocking chair. At the sight of the bottle, Evan gladly succumbed to being readjusted in Gibbs’ arm, grabbing the offering with gusto. In the warmth of the fire and the lull of the slight rocking, it didn’t take long for the baby to fall asleep, and after gently lifting him against his chest, Gibbs wasn’t far behind.

…..

Despite an earlier assessment of her sleeping habits, while she may have been able to sleep through a bomb, she stirred when her body realized his was gone. His spot was cool and she immediately pushed herself up on one hand. Brushing her hair from her face, thoughts that he might have gone to the outdoor head were banished when she saw him in the chair. He and Evan. Throwing back the blanket, she padded over to the duo and burned the image to memory. The chair was still rocking in the smallest manner, like his subconscious was just aware enough to keep it going, even if both of them looked dead to the world. A drool puddle had formed on his shoulder and it was her soft laugh that jolted him awake.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

She hooked his finger with hers. “Come back to bed. Both of you.”

“Jack-”

“We’ll make room,” she said, cutting off his objection. “Please?”

He knew he’d never refuse her, and she knew it, too. Pretending to ignore her pleased smile and pretending it didn’t please _him_ , he said, “Grab the turtle.”

…..

Despite said turtle being in the bed, what interested Evan the most when dawn broke was Jack. Tucked in between the two adults, he was facing her on a shared pillow, and at present, her nose was the focus of his attention. Tiny fingers reached out for a grip.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she mumbled, still half asleep.

“Yep. That’s what they tell me.”

Slowly raising herself up on her elbow, Jack ran a finger down Evan’s cheek, drawing out a laugh. “Oh, you two think you’re so funny.” 

She nuzzled his tiny nose with hers and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Gibbs watched the moment, reaching over to tuck her hair behind her ear. She looked up at him with a kind of sadness in her eyes and he understood. He couldn’t change all that she had lost; he could only promise to give her everything he had. Stretching over Evan, he kissed her forehead, then her nose, then her lips.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” she said as she attempted to wipe away a tear, only to have him beat her to it.

With a gentle thumb, he brushed under her eyes and asked, “You gonna start lyin’ to me, Jack?” A smile traced over her lips despite the tears. “You know why. And there’s nothin’ wrong with it.” He kissed her again, then said, “You two stay here. Gonna hit the head. Then we’ll figure out what we’re doin’ for breakfast. Maybe call McGee.”

“Okay.”

Reluctantly, he rolled out of bed, changed into his pants and slipped his feet into his shoes.

“Take the gun!” she called out. “For the bears.” 

He shook his head at the teasing reminder but took the gun anyway.

…..

He was surprised to find them both dressed when he returned. “Figured you two would sleep in.”

She took the bottle out of the hot pot, checked the temperature against her wrist and offered it to Evan, who was curled in the crook of her arm. “Thought it was for the best not to drag it out,” she said, not needing to go into detail. He knew she had made an attachment to Evan -they both had- and that letting go was going to be harder than either of them ever thought. Quickly changing the subject, she asked, “Any thoughts on breakfast?”

The question was interrupted by his phone. “McGee.”

There was no greeting, no lead-up. The sound of squealing tires could be heard in the background. “Bishop finally tracked Shockley’s GPS. He’s 10 minutes from your location. We’ve called the LEOs and we’re on our way now.”

Gibbs did a quick calculation. There was no way the team could make it before Shockley. “How far are the uniforms?”

The other shoe dropped. “Twenty minutes, fifteen if they can drive.”

He immediately knew they were coming from the small town that had the gas station. “Let’s hope Shockley gets lost and the LEOs can drive.”

“Boss, you can’t stay.”

“Ten minutes doesn’t give us a hell of a lot of time to leave, McGee.” Though his words were short, they held no malice. “I got an idea.” He closed the phone and saw that Jack was on hers.

Before he could ask, she handed over Ethan and began quickly typing. “Come on, come on.” Whatever she was asking it to do seemed to get done, because she hit the button and put the phone in her back pocket. “Okay, what do we need to do?”

“We can’t leave.”

“Yeah, I heard. So now what?

He handed the baby back and lifted the edge of the small rug in the middle of the room. The rug lifted a small trap door. “Root cellar.” 

“You’re a genius.”

Despite the imminent danger, he smirked. He tossed a blanket over Evan and said, “I’ll bring a flashlight. Go.”

“Wait!” She juggled holding the baby with one hand while she reached for her phone. A few buttons pressed later, she walked over to the window opposite the trap door and tossed the phone. 

“Jack?”

“Trust me. Now, let’s go.” 

She carefully navigated the cellar stairs without another word, and with a flashlight in one hand and a gun in the other, he did the same, pulling the door shut behind him. The sudden darkness made Evan whimper, but the combination of Gibbs turning on the flashlight and Jack’s soothing sway helped dispel his anxiety. She popped the bottle into his mouth and looked around the darkened room that was no bigger than a small bedroom. 

“We won’t be here long,” he told her, mistaking her search for something else, and she loved him for it.

“No,” she said, assuring him the small confines weren’t playing on her nerves. Yet. “I was just wondering where the boat was.”

Whatever anxiety remained in the room was swept away by her smile.

…..

Bishop was off by 2 minutes, though in her defense, considering Shockley was shooting at the cabin from a good 100 yards, she was probably right on time. The duo in the cellar had waited in anticipation, though neither had expected the long range gun fire.

“Probably tryin’ to flush us out,” Gibbs surmised as the wood splintered and the glass crashed overhead.

“Waste of good bullets. I mean, good for us.”

The intermittent gun fire startled Evan, and no amount of comfort from Jack or Gibbs could stop the small whimper from growing into a cry. Knowing silence was key, Gibbs took a deep breath, contemplated his options, then handed the flashlight to Jack.

“What are you-”

He stopped her with a kiss, took a deep breath, and bolted up the short stairs. His name died on her lips, knowing that calling it out would only give up their location, if him pushing the trap door open didn’t do it for them. A shot rang out and she held her breath. 

Just as quickly as he left, he returned, this time, with a familiar toy in hand. 

“Don’t think he knows we’re here,” he said. “The shot wasn’t aimed at me.” He bopped Evan’s nose with the toy, drawing his attention to plush. The crying stopped immediately.

“You went back for the turtle.” Her nerves, still on edge at what he had done, tinged her voice with accusation.

He understood the adrenaline all too well; he was trying to quell his own. “Kid wanted the toy. We wanted him to stop cryin’.” His explanation was simple, matter-of-fact, and completely Gibbs.

“Don’t do something that stupid again, okay?”

Running a calming touch through her hair, he said, “Ya know I can’t promise _that_.”

There was enough lightness to his words that she could only press her lips together and shake her head. “Ass.”

With a finger over her lips, he shushed her, and their attention went upward. The shooting had stopped and they were left in silence. Gibbs tried to calculate time between an unknown distance and the cabin based solely on the shots he had heard, and figured Shockley would be arriving at any moment. Five seconds later, they heard the door kicked in. 

Jack divided her attention between the action upstairs and making sure Evan was distracted, while Gibbs’ only focus was on the creaking floorboards overhead. Though they couldn’t see it, things were very obviously being thrown to the floor as Shockley ransacked the cabin. Cupboards were banged open and chairs were overturned. The sound brought another small whimper from Evan, and Jack took that as her cue. Tapping Gibbs’ arm, she made the universal sign for a phone, and though he was confused by the request, he handed it over. The cell’s screen illuminated the cellar in a green glow, and in the tight space, he could see her calling her own number. There was a silent stretch, but then, even underground, Gibbs could hear it- the distinct sound of a baby crying. It caught him so off-guard that he immediately looked down at Evan, but when watery eyes looked back at him, he knew what she had done. Footsteps went from one side of the cabin to the other, stepping across the trap door to get to the opposite window, and as soon as they crossed over, Gibbs crept up the stairs and inched the hatch open, gun at the ready. Shockley had discovered the source of the crying- Jack’s phone on the ground outside, just below the broken window.

“Shit!” he swore, slamming his hand on the ledge.

The distraction and frustration gave Gibbs enough time to exit the cellar and stand, gun pointing. “Drop it.”

Shockley jumped and spun at the words, his Glock drawn and ready to fire. But he didn’t get the chance against a man who had something more than himself to protect. At the first hint that Shockley wasn’t going to go quietly, Gibbs fired, and the suspect dropped to the floor with a dull thud. Out of habit, he kicked the gun away and waited for the adrenaline to subside a little before calling down into the cellar.

“Clear.”

Slowly, Jack and Evan appeared, and he took the baby so she could come up the rest of the way. He needlessly ran his hand over Evan to make sure he was okay, then looked at Jack to get the same reassurance. She nodded, knowing what he needed. 

“We’re good.” She looked around. “This place, not so much.”

“Kicked in my damn door for no reason,” Gibbs groused.

“He was looking for something,” Jack mused, “but clearly didn’t find it.”

Gibbs followed her searching gaze around the room, but found nothing more than she did. “Why Evan?” he wondered aloud, and at the sound of his name, he banged the turtle against Gibbs’ face. 

Jack smiled at the exchange, then a dawning spread across her face. “The turtle.” At Gibbs’ side, she stroked Evan’s head. “Can I have that?” she asked, tugging at the toy until he willingly relinquished it. She bopped him on the nose several times, earning his trust and favour. She gave one last bop, this one to Gibbs, and before he could verbalize what his stare was silently telling her, she held out her hand. “Knife, please.” 

“You’re gonna have to explain it to the kid,” he warned her, placing the folded blade into her palm. 

“I’m sure I can find some glue,” she winked. Carefully, she cut along a seam then pressed her fingers inside the toy, probing in the stuffing. “Just a little surgery,” she told Evan who was watching her intently. “Ah ha!” She held up a small USB stick and kissed the baby. “Good job, sweetheart.” Glancing up at Gibbs, she said, “You, too,” then kissed him soundly. 

The gasp of, “Gibbs and a baby!” from Ellie in the doorway did little to interrupt the kiss. In fact, with his good arm, he pulled Jack in closer.

“That’s what you’re taking from this?” Nick queried, his voice high with incredulity. “Because I’ve seen him with a baby, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him in just a T-shirt.”

McGee looked at his teammates like they’d each grown an extra head. “So we’re just going to ignore Gibbs and _Jack_?” When Gibbs broke from the kiss just enough to glare at his team, Tim quickly added, “And the answer to that question is ‘yes’.”

Taking pity on him, Jack smiled and held out the USB stick. “Found it in the stuffed animal. I’m guessing we’re going to find a lot of interesting names on it.”

Bishop stepped forward to take it. “And speaking of names, what’s yours?” She leaned into the baby and tickled his cheek. 

“This little guy is Evan,” Jack told her. 

“Aren’t you the cutest thing?” Bishop cooed. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said to Gibbs, with all the confidence a daughter would have teasing her father, and when he tried to turn her to stone with his glare, she just shrugged. 

“I gotta use the head,” Gibbs said, and as he handed Evan over to Bishop, he dryly added, “He’s already been there.” 

She patted the diaper and frowned, but any rebuttal she might have had was interrupted by the sirens of the local uniforms coming down the road.

…..

**EPILOGUE**

The names of 4 high ranking officials were discovered on the stick, along with a ring of subordinates that cobwebbed through a handful of squads. Collecting corroborating evidence before making any arrests took them the majority of 2 weeks, preventing the two of them from getting back to the cabin, though she knew he had gone up once to get the new windows and door installed. She suspected he had gone up for another reason, but she was okay with that, having put an unidentified box in the back of his truck under his critical eye. He tightened it against the truck bed, protecting it from the loose lumber they were bringing with them, but said no more. The ride up was quiet but comforting, and 5 miles outside of the city, his hand found her thigh and never left. She idly stroked the back of his fingers, eyes closed, heart open.

The closer they got to the cabin, the lighter she felt, and she could tell it had the same impact on him. By the time they got there, she was sure she had heard him humming. They had the weekend off and all the tension seemed to melt away. When he put the truck into park, his hand lifted from her thigh to her hair and he kissed her across the seat.

“Grab the groceries, I’ll grab the gear,” he said, as if he kissed her every day, as if these two days together weren’t the first in what she hoped was a long line of them. 

She balanced 3 paper bags loaded with supplies and waited by the door, watching as he slung 2 duffels over each shoulder and cradled the mystery box in his hands. 

“Careful with that,” she said, just to get a rise out of him, knowing he couldn’t say anything with the keys dangling from his lips. Winking at his glare, she took them and unlocked the cabin door.

He had cleaned up the cabin, though there was still plenty left to show what had happened, which was why they brought the lumber with them. Splinters and chunks were taken out of the walls, the furniture and the window frames that now had new glass. But the windows and doors weren’t the only new things in the cabin. In front of the fireplace, across from his rocking chair, was its twin, just less worn. She slowly put the bags on the table and walked over to the chair. Her fingers brushed over the smooth wood and it rocked gently under her touch.

“When in the world did you find time to make this?”

He dropped the duffels on the bed to watch her marvel at the piece and was almost bashful at her admiration. “I find time.”

The phrasing made her turn to him, knowing there was a volume of unspoken meaning behind the words. Placing the box on the table beside the groceries, he tugged her in close by her belt loop and brought their hips together. Their lips met like they had all the time in the world. The moment lingered, languidly and leisurely, until she pulled back, peppering his lips with chaste kisses.

“It’s quiet,” she said, almost wistfully.

He knew she wasn’t talking about the surroundings. They had found Tracy Grant’s sister in Baltimore, and it had been hard saying goodbye to Evan, even if Jack had put up a brave front at the time. He wrapped her in closer, kissing the top of her head. “He was a good kid,” he admitted.

Knowing he knew exactly what she was feeling lifted the weight. “Tracy’s sister said I could visit any time I wanted.” She felt the chuckle under her ear and raised her head. “What?”

“Said the same thing to me.”

“I guess we’ll have to go up sometime.”

“I guess we will.” His feigned annoyance didn’t fool her, wasn’t meant to. He kissed her again, then asked, “What’s in the box?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, don’t say it that way.” Seeing his slight confusion, she said, “‘Seven’? The movie with Brad Pitt? ‘What’s in the’- nevermind. Why don’t you go look?”

For all his stoicism, he didn’t have to be told twice. With care and his knife, he slit the top open, pulled back the flaps and looked inside. His smile was her reward. He pulled out the large wooden boat and held it up to peer inside. His eyes were bright with joy and now it was her turn to almost feel bashful about the gift.

“It was just weird, you having a basement without a boat,” she said, trying to deflect the attention he was now directing at her. 

“We can put a dart board right over there,” he said, jerking his chin to an empty space on the wall.

She shook her head. “I use it to clear my head. Won’t need that up here.”

He carefully put down the boat, then wrapped his arms around her waist. “No?”

“Nope. It’s all clear here.” She meant the words in a variety of ways and his imperceptible nod told her he understood. The moment was broken when her stomach growled and they both laughed. “Teach me how to fish, Cowboy.”

They ended up tipping the canoe over instead, but that was okay, too.

…..

-end.


End file.
